


Trovador (English Translation)

by hopesartcastle



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27503692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopesartcastle/pseuds/hopesartcastle
Summary: She would never, never forget the taste of Hector’s lips on hers, or the blush that appeared on her cheeks when he whispered “Imelda” alongside the hazardous melody of a lazy guitar.
Relationships: Héctor Rivera/Imelda Rivera
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19





	Trovador (English Translation)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isadora_Art](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isadora_Art/gifts).
  * A translation of [Trovador](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16256966) by [Isadora_Art](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isadora_Art/pseuds/Isadora_Art). 



(Don't ask me 'bout tomorrow, or tell me 'bout my past)

He had a particular way of pronouncing her name, a way that made her feel important, more than she ever truly was. Through syllables with hidden unspoken promises, through teasing vowels and love poems. Thanks to his words, he had the power to create palaces of paragraphs. He intertwined phrases, played with rhymes, and composed such delicate music.

But mainly, he had a way, a particular way of saying her name. His lips spread to pronounce ‘i’, then press together to allow the discreet ‘m’ to pass, like he was about to give a kiss. Then, his lips still moving to form the melodic ‘e’, drew a sweet dimple on his red cheeks. His tongue joined the roof of his mouth for the ‘l’ to glide through their union, and always let the last syllable out with ease, the ‘da’ that resonated in his mouth and always finished too quick for her liking. She never grew tired of it.

When she realized that Hector was not coming home, and she made up her mind, she was incapable of saying what was hurting her most. The coldness of the sheets that she felt each time she went to bed, where the contagious heat of her husband used to be. The inability to forget the sparkle in his eyes when he would say her name, that gave her a joyful smile. The two sentiments were blessings, and a gaping hole in her chest that was impossible to fill.

In the end, she just had to get used to the pain, laughing and fiendish smiles, trying to forget the rat that had left her to languish alone without a single glance back. She tried to forget, banishing any object that was directly or indirectly related to her husband’s activities. But even still, Hector’s chocolate gaze swept over her as she laid in the cold bed and forced herself to close her eyes. 

.

(My heart is yours to borrow, ain't nothin' meant to last)

Hector told Coco, before he left, that she needed to remember him each time she heard a sad guitar. The sweet melody that filled the air, according to him, held the merit of uniting them, no matter the distance that separated them. Imelda heard it all, leaning against the wall adjacent to the door. She had a tender smile, despite the unforgettable anger that coursed through her veins. Hector was going to leave. He was leaving them all alone. She was furious with him, but seeing the gleaming gaze from her daughter as she sang the song every night, inevitably softened her heart.

Hector told Coco, before he left, that she needed to remember him each time she heard a sad guitar. It had been months now since Hector stopped writing them letters, even more months since he had set foot in their house, and yet the girl’s starry-eyed gaze remained. Imelda, she was desperate, in pain, angry. But Coco never ceased to wait and continue hoping that her father would return to sing happy lullabies. She was staring at the doorstep, waiting for the door to open and show a familiar silhouette. And to respect the promise made to her father, each time she heard a despaired tune, she would jump to her feet and cry “Papa!”, with a cheerful smile and cloudy eyes. 

But even when mariachis passed by with their pretty costumes, strumming their guitar strings with passion, Coco would approach them with a voice interspersed with sadness, eyes filled with tears. She simply would ask “Have you seen my papa?” There was always heavy silence that instilled, and buried the music. 

Hector told Coco, before he left, that she needed to remember him each time she heard a sad guitar. So, Imelda, heartbroken to see her daughter proclaim her father’s name each time she crossed a melancholic guitar, decided to make sure that Coco never crossed a guitar again, or any instrument for that matter. Firstly she disposed of all the instruments in their house that belonged to her husband and best friend. Next she patiently threatened any musico that came to their village. 

Finally, Coco stopped asking about her papa. And Imelda, she continued to live her life, far from the irritating sounds that reminded her of the good times. The times when she was happy in the arms of a man. However, she was reminded of the bad times too. The times that she had to live in a world where her husband preferred music over their family. 

She would never, never forget the taste of Hector’s lips on hers, or the blush that appeared on her cheeks when he whispered “Imelda” alongside the hazardous melody of a lazy guitar.

(I ain't lyin', i don't lie, without an alibi)


End file.
